Full Circle
by Simple-Minded Idiot
Summary: They're stuck in an angry love triangle wherein one side isn't aware, the other doesn't care, and the last one struggles to meet both sides.


"If I loved you, do you honestly think that I would do this?"

Soubi could feel that warm, intoxicating breath on his left ear. He wanted to lean closer to it. He wanted to envelop it as he always had.

But before he could do anything rash, the harsh rain that continuously poured on him pulled him back to his senses.

This was how they usually walked back to Seimei's house when it was raining if the streets were empty. Soubi would walk without an umbrella atop him, letting himself be drenched, while Seimei would be walking nearby, making sure that the umbrella he held would never touch the other.

It was a way of training, he had said. (That was probably the only thing in his mind. Fighting was the only thing Soubi was useful for.)

Soubi had agreed. He would do anything Seimei told him to anyway. Something as crazy as this was no exception. (He'd even jump off a building for Seimei. It was so _ridiculous_, but he would do anything for the sake of love or whatever it was that Seimei called it.)

Kio had been outraged when he saw the two of them walking like this for the first time. He'd merely quelled the insane urge to butcher Seimei when he saw that smile on Soubi's face. (That man was _insane_. But at this point, Kio wasn't exactly sure which man he was referring to.)

Today had been particularly brutal. At least brutal enough for Seimei to utter those words which relentlessly pierced through Soubi again and again. (And he _knew_, but mercy was a foreign concept to both of them.)

The impossible had almost happened.

Soubi had almost lost.

Seimei was discreetly livid, of course. He hated imperfection with a burning passion.

"Do you, Soubi?" he asked.

The rest of their walk was spent in relative silence. They soon reached Seimei's house.

"Good night, Seimei," Soubi said.

Seimei merely continued to walk to the house gates, ignoring Soubi.

This was the norm, of course.

Soubi soon heard the door opening and a cheerful-sounding voice greeting Seimei. Light coming from the house illuminated the streets for a bit, before Soubi was plunged into darkness yet again. He grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and began the long walk to his own apartment.

It was _that voice_, _that person_ who Seimei spoiled all of his doting self upon.

The doting self which Soubi wanted so much. Needed to an unhealthy extent.

* * *

The only time Soubi had ever seen Seimei smile was whenever the latter mentioned his family. His little brother to be more exact. (Soubi knew that it was wrong of Seimei, but since when did his own opinion ever matter? And this was Seimei. Normal rules never applied to him.)

Aoyagi Ritsuka.

That was the name Soubi had learned to loathe so much that it made his chest hurt. What was more miserable that he couldn't simply _erase_ the existence of this Ritsuka. Because Seimei loved that person the most. And his happiness was valued above the rest.

(A heart that loved knew no bounds. Soubi was no exception.)

It was one of those cold autumn days when Seimei was most agreeable. He and Soubi were, as was tradition during days like those, spending their time inside a café. He was drinking some sort of coffee which the establishment was known for and Soubi was sketching him as a project for class.

The sounds which dominated their table was the light tinkle of porcelain as it was placed back on a dainty-looking plate and the somewhat scratchy noise of pencil meeting paper.

The two of them had never been truly talkative.

(Off was Seimei's facade whenever he didn't know anyone around him. Soubi had long ago learned that Seimei didn't like talking.)

But today, it seemed as if Seimei was in a better mood than usual, even more so than the moods he displayed during days like these. He opened his mouth and began to talk in that soft baritone of his which Soubi worshiped to no ends.

Seimei talked about his brother, which he always did whenever he was in a mood as rare as this. A small, wistful smile was playing upon his lips and there was a certain _glint_ in his eyes that announced his utter joy to the whole world or at least to someone who was directly in front of him.

Soubi stifled his anger. He was already quite happy that he could hear and see Seimei like this.

Ritsuka. Ritsuka. Ritsuka. Seimei endlessly talked about the boy. He'd looked so carefree. So unlike himself. Kind words spilled from his mouth at a leisurely pace and an adoring gaze (which had never _ever_ been bestowed upon Soubi) burned in his eyes. (Soubi thought that if Kio was to walk in on them, the latter would think differently of Seimei now.)

"Soubi," Seimei said.

Soubi looked at him, a smile on his own face. He was rather surprised. This had been the first time Seimei had broken out of his _Ritsuka stupor_ only to say his name or acknowledge him. (Perhaps something was changing.)

"When I die, I'd like you to love," But love, for Seimei, had always meant _belong_ — a fickle fact of life which Soubi had learned far too late, "Ritsuka."

And just like that, the gaiety that surrounded their table dissipated.

"Of course," Soubi replied. He would do anything for Seimei after all. Even love the person he'd come to hate.

(The request had never been about him to begin with.)

* * *

"I'm your brother's friend," Soubi found himself saying years later.

He'd wanted to say more than that, but it would be twisting the truth far too much.

Seimei would be displeased.

* * *

"I love you," Soubi found himself saying a couple of hours later.

Only Seimei deserved the truth.

Ritsuka was only a child. He'd figured that children needed that bout of affection. (But Soubi's mind was already warped beyond help. It was only normal that his show of _affection_ was eccentric.)

And then Ritsuka rejected him in the way Seimei never did. It was so direct, so clear that it baffled Soubi who had been used to reading between the lines.

(Soubi was dazzled and he began to see _Ritsuka_. It was a completely different situation. It was an all new high.)


End file.
